


The Exception to Many Rules

by epic_sorcerer



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Angst, Arthur has depression (Merlin), Arthur has dyslexia (Merlin), Childhood Trauma, Fluff, Humor, Learning Disabilities, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Merlin has adhd (Merlin), Merlin has depression (Merlin), Merlin has rejection sensitivity dysphoria (Merlin), merlin has anxiety (Merlin), merlin has sensory Processing disorder (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epic_sorcerer/pseuds/epic_sorcerer
Summary: Merlin  wished  he  didn’t  have  to  leave  his  childhood  home.  However,  he  felt  so  horrible  there  he  wasn’t  sure  if  it  counted  as  a  one,  rather  than  a  place  he  lived  in.  Although,  Merlin  would  have  left  Ealdor  anyways.  He  knew  there  was  something  wrong  with  him.  Like  an  affliction  of  the  mind  of  sorts.  In  Camelot,  he  had  an  uncle  named  Gaius  who  worked  as a court  physician.  Merlin  hoped  the  man  could  help  him,  he  had  nowhere  else  to  turn.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	The Exception to Many Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter edited by @saucy_erer , my dyslexic ass literally couldn’t have done it without them.
> 
> Trigger warning for:  
> mild but not explicit suicidal thoughts towards the end. 
> 
> please comment and show support. I have adhd and dyslexia myself so it’s very difficult to post regularly without Encouragement basically the more support I get the faster I get these out. Also happy adhd and dyslexia awareness month!

Merlin trekked through the winding forest, aiming each footfall at the leaves that made a satisfying  _ crunch _ . A small smile pulled at his lips, the sound always soothed him. It motivated Merlin to walk at a steady pace and distracted him from his homesickness. 

Merlin was walking to Camelot. Even thinking about it quickened his heartbeat. Merlin had never before left Ealdor; a small village in Cenred’s kingdom. He had no idea what Camelot—or any other location for that matter—would be like. He hoped the people would be nicer for a start Most in Ealdor were horrid to say the least. They were the main reason Merlin had left in the first place. 

Merlin wished he didn’t have to leave his childhood home. However, he felt so horrible there he wasn’t sure if it counted as a one, rather than a place he lived in. Although, Merlin would have left Ealdor anyways. He knew there was something wrong with him. Like an affliction of the mind of sorts. In Camelot, he had an uncle named Gaius who worked as a court physician. Merlin hoped the man could help him, he had nowhere else to turn. 

Merlin sighed and tried to stop his mind from spiraling into worst case scenarios but he was too late. What if Gaius couldn’t cure him? What if he didn’t want to cure him? What if Gaius hated him as much as the people in Ealdor? They all hated him for his “problem” after all, who’s to say Gaius isn’t the same? Everyone in ealdor thought of him as possessed or cursed—each diagnosis varied from person to person. The rumors got so bad, the only ones Merlin could confidently call his friends were Will(an older boy who acted as an elder brother) and his own mother. 

Merlin always found it difficult to understand why people hated him enough to assume him bewitched. His mother had always told him it was because he was simply different and the others didn’t know what to do with him. “The exception to many rules,” she called him. She would tell him not to worry about it, as Merlin would be better off if he didn’t bother with them. 

But Merlin  _ wanted _ to be friends with the other children. Merlin wanted to be normal. He would always make a point to do something nice to the others or ask to play games with them. Merlin would try his hardest to be as friendly as possible but it never seemed to work. He would even force his belongings in other children’s hands in an attempt to share, but it was never successful, even when he refused to take no for an answer. They would simply stare at him in confusion or tell him to stop until he eventually got the hint and walked away, red faced and heartbroken. The older he got, the more distant others felt against him. 

When Merlin was six, he befriended Will, his first and only friend. He was two years older than Merlin and didn’t see why he should be scared of another child anyways. Will first approached Merlin while he was playing a game of Knucklebones by himself.

Merlin was so excited to have a friend, he started rocking back and fourth, flapping his hands and squealing happily before he remembered what his mother had told him. She didn’t want him doing that outside the house, just like his magic. Of course his mother let him fidget and make things float in the cottage of course, but she wanted to keep him safe. 

Will however, was not bothered by Merlin’s movements. He was glad that Merlin was happy and didn't think much more of it. Will played a few games of knuckle bones and lost every one (Merlin had done nothing but play that game since he’d gotten up.) Needless to say, Merlin was incredibly good but seemed to be more excited at the feel of the game pieces in his hands, rather than his victories. The boy loved the feeling of the bones on his skin and would roll them between his hands or rub his thumb on the smooth bumps. 

It was only after a few weeks the two became inseparable. They would play with each other whenever they could and Merlin’s mother even let him fidgeting more in front of Will. The other boy’s mother didn’t like her son’s new friend at first, but was able to warm up to him. After Will told her about Merlin, she decided he sounded like a very sweet boy, even if she still believed him to have been cursed(Will was never able to shake her superstitions beliefs.)

  
  


Merlin was thrusted out of his thoughts with a plummeting feeling, realizing too late that he was falling. His heart pounded in his chest, and he blindly thrashed out his arms. He was able to catch himself on a nearby tree. For a long moment, Merlin only stood there and tried to catch his breath as the reality of the situation dawned on him. 

_ Merlin, who was really only skin and bones, almost fell forwards with everything he owned strapped to his back. He was in the middle of a forest where no one could help or hear him scream. Who would know if Merlin would injure himself? What then?  _

Merlin shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts but the familiar hot and cold and anxiety was still trickling through his body. Maybe Giaus could help fix that. Merlin heard normal people did not have as much trouble as he did with bad thoughts. 

_ What if he broke something? What if he couldn’t make it to Camelot? What if he died here, alone in the forest? What if... _

Merlin sighed and checked his map. He was only a bit off track and the sun was setting anyways. Merlin stopped at a nearby clearing and retrieved a blanket from his bag. It was made with an expensive type of fabric by Ealdor standards, all his clothing was. This was because Merlin couldn’t wear the typical wool Ealdor was accustomed to 

The skin exposed to it would immediately feel as if it were being stabbed by many, tiny needles. They always reminded him of the ones his mother used for sewing, in a bittersweet sort of way. Every time he wore it, he would freeze to minimize skin brushing against the wool and remove it immediately. If Merlin kept it on, he would start crying and screaming uncontrollably for  _ hours _ , even after the garment was off.

Merlin hated being this sensitive. Only his mother and Will seemed not to be bothered by it. The villagers would gossip or even say to his mother’s face that she was spoiling her son and if she would just stop buying him special clothes and foods, Merlin would act like all the other children. Thankfully, Merlin’s mother was a stubborn woman and paid no mind to them. Even on the rare occasion when the others would corner her. 

It was usually fellow mothers who did this to the poor woman. They would complain that Merlin was being spoiled by her parenting and soon their own children would copy her son’s behavior. The mothers would demand Merlin be treated as everyone else before the other children start complaining that  _ they _ don’t get special treatment as well.

Merlin’s mother did try to explain what her son was going through. Some beloved her. Some were completely resistant to the idea that,  _ no, Merlin wasn’t cursed or spoiled, he simply needed more help. _ The ones who believed her had nothing against him or his mother, but treated them both with such humiliating pity, Merlin didn’t know what he hated more. 

They would act like he were only five years old and would even talk about him as if he wasn’t clearly in earshot. They would sometimes ask invasive questions to his mother, usually having to do with his emotional maturity and how he would be able to start a family. 

They would act as if Merlin were something scandalous or inappropriate and try whisper about his condition to his mother. She was tasked with not looking too offended, as to keep them from potentially turning against Merlin like the rest of the village. Merlin oftentimes felt ashamed of the difficulties he caused his mother, but she always reminded him that it wasn’t his fault, that she would always love both him and his condition. Merlin only wished he felt the same about himself.

  
  


It didn’t matter much to Merlin’s mother that others objected to her parenting, but it did much more to her once Merlin himself was there. When he was about eight, he overheard one of the village women talking to his mother. He crouched down next to a nearby cart and listened intently.

He couldn’t remember much, but the woman's voice was stern and demanding. She scolded his mother for letting Merlin grow into some sort of weed, strangling and sabotaging the other children in search of attention. She went on to say Merlin was corrupt by either a demon or by the devil himself, he couldn’t remember. 

What he could recall however, was how his heart sank when he heard the woman’s words. He felt a sort of cold appear inside his heart, spreading quickly to his stomach like a sinking stone. A growing lump rose in his throat. She was right, of course she was. Why would she say something so serious if it was a lie? 

The woman must have decided she had said enough, she huffed and walked away. Merlin’s mother only sighed and shook her head. She turned around to see Merlin’s wide eyes peering up at her as his face began to crumple. His mother quickly scooped him up and carried him back into their cottage as he wept into her shoulder.

Merlin had been subject to hate, sure, but he had never been called anything like a weed. His body flipped between hot and cold over and over, the feeling of blades pricing his skin was fighting itself to the forefront of this mind. All he could think about was how much he hurt the other children, how everything would be okay if he just didn’t exist anymore.

That settles it. The next day, Merlin would run away and live in the forest with the water spirits his mother told him stories about. That’s what he tried to do anyways, but his mother ended up finding him in the shallow end of the woods. He put up a fight in hopes his mother would realize she’d be better off without him too. She only looked at him solemnly and asked him what was wrong. 

“No one likes me here! And I don’t like them either...they'd be better off without me anyways.” Merlin shouted, performing the most defiant stance he could to show his mind was set. He even looked her directly in the eyes, something he often had trouble doing. 

His mother only sighed and sat down on the forest floor to get at Merlin’s level. 

“Is it because of what Mary said?” Merlin assumed that was the angry woman’s name and nodded. He looked down at his feet and tried to fight against the pouting of his lip, making his body rigid 

“Merlin, look at me.” The boy looked up but kept his head tipped down. He felt too much shame for running away and yelling at his mother. 

“Everything she said... do you know what we call that?” Merlin shook his head no.

“It’s your favorite word.” His mother said encouragingly. Merlin raised his head before he muttered apprehensively:

“...rubbish?” Merlin didn’t know why he liked the word so much, but it felt good to say while he rocked back and forth.

“Exactly.” His mother said, “And should we listen to it?” Merlin shook his head again, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“But can it still hurt?” Merlin couldn’t nod this time—he couldn’t move—he’d been holding back his tears for too long and started to cry. His mother reached out to touch him but he recoiled. He instead sat down with her and drew in the dirt with his finger.

“What if I am a weed...what if everyone else is good except for us?” Merlin asked between sniffles and hiccups. Hunith pondered this while handing her son a stick to draw with. 

“Look at the trees, are they beautiful?” Hunith started. Merlin observed the wise oak and the large canopy their leaves formed together, shattering sunbeams across the forest debris. 

“Yes,” Merlin said, “That’s why I came here.” 

“Good. Now think of the vegetables in our garden. Are they beautiful?” Merlin thought of the carrots and turnips Ealdor grew in the fields. He nodded.

“Those plants take much more care than the trees. But that doesn’t mean they are not beautiful. They are just as useful too, we use vegetables or our meals and wood for our houses.” Merlin’s mother said, looking at him with an intensity so great she had to mean it. 

“What does that have to do with us?” Merlin croaked, still feeling the aftershocks from crying.

“What I meant to say, is that it’s alright to need more attention. You are still needed in Ealdor, Merlin.” The boy looked at his mother, he got up. 

“Can we go home now?” Merlin asked the women. 

“Yes, of course.” She followed suit and led her son out of the forest.

The present Merlin sighed and whipped away a tear . He found some nearby sticks and used his magic to light a fire. He looked past the trees to the transitioning sky. He watched as the spotted black swallowed the sun as the moon took its place. He wouldn’t be sleeping much that night, but that was okay. He didn’t sleep much normally anyways. 

He thought it ironic his mother sent him back into the woods ten years later. It seemed Ealdor didn’t need him as much as Camelot did. Merlin took out some dried fruit from his bag for a midnight snack and wrapped himself up in his blanket. Tomorrow is a new day.

  
  
  



End file.
